


Tangled Webs

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Assassin Iwaizumi, Black Widow AU, Crime boss Ushijima, Drugging, M/M, alcohol use, dubcon elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 08:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14912093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime is a seasoned killer, with wit sharp enough to cut and reflexes to match. He's never missed a kill. That is, of course, until he meets his new mark — Ushijima Wakatoshi.Can Ushijima offer Iwaizumi what he truly desires, on top of a night of heated passion that can only end one way?





	Tangled Webs

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a warm and fuzzy story. 
> 
> There are elements of dubious consent in this story. While the act is premeditated, one character participates in sex acts in order to accomplish missions he has been mentally/physically/psychologically conditioned to complete. There will be a moment of clarity where he realizes how messed up that is, how messed up HE is, but if this concept makes you uncomfortable, I suggest you stop here.
> 
> Also, drugging happens, but during intercourse and not before it, and also not with the intent of impairing judgment or consent. Once again, if this makes you uncomfortable, please turn back now.

  
  


Iwaizumi’s eyes rake over the crowded room, and it doesn’t take more than a few seconds to spot his prey; after all, he’s the tallest guy in the room by a wide margin. His mission clear and his opportunity at hand, he doesn’t waste time in approaching Ushijima Wakatoshi — the man he is being paid very well to kill.

Adjusting his bowtie for the hundredth time, Iwaizumi saunters over to the bar where Ushijima sips on a scotch. He leans against the bar next to Ushijima and flags down the bartender. “Martini, extra dirty.” As the bartender moves to comply, Iwaizumi looks over at Ushijima. “The booze any good?”

Taking a longer drag on his drink, Ushijima flares his nostrils and sets down the glass. “Not really.”

“That’s a shame.” Iwaizumi leans closer. “Parties like this are dull as shit, and the only bright side is the open bar.”

Ushijima picks up his glass and gives Iwaizumi a hint of a salute. “You are not wrong.” He drains its contents and gestures for another. Moments later, both of their drinks arrive. 

After one taste, Iwaizumi decides that Ushijima has a point and guzzles it down so he doesn’t have to taste mediocre gin any longer than necessary. “Yeah, that was terrible. I’ve puked up better martinis. And I thought you rich people could afford better liquor.”

“I certainly didn’t design the drink menu.” Ushijima quickly finishes off his new drink and pushes away from the bar. He quirks a brow at Iwaizumi. “If you’re not one of  _ us _ , then why are you here?”

Iwaizumi spits out his rehearsed answer. “You know how they pay good-looking people to make parties look better? Yeah, that’s me.” He turns around to lean his back against the bar, arms splayed across the top. “I dance with rich old ladies and make them feel young for a night. Rich old closet cases imagine what I look like underneath the tux. I might even let ‘em see for themselves if the price is right.”

“So you’re a prostitute.” Ushijima snorts. “I should’ve guessed. Nobody comes up and strikes up a conversation with me unless they want something. Most of them are afraid of me.”

“I prefer the term escort, but a guy’s gotta make a living.” He angles toward Ushijima. “That whole yakuza thing scares people away, I’m guessing.”

Crossing his arms, Ushijima nods. “It usually does.” He drags his gaze over Iwaizumi’s well-fitted tuxedo and hums. “You don’t seem afraid. You probably should be.”

“Meh.” Iwaizumi stands in front of Ushijima, half a head shorter but unwilling to feel small next to this man who has probably been responsible for the deaths of more people than Iwaizumi even knows. “Maybe I’m an idiot.”

Ushijima shakes his head. “No, I don’t believe you are, unless you include being brazen toward people who can buy and sell you with their pocket change.”

Iwaizumi fights off a smirk. Ushijima is taking the bait. “Oh, so you’re interested in buying? Didn’t know you were the type.”

“My type is whatever I want.” Ushijima traces a rough fingertip down the curve of Iwaizumi’s jaw. “And I always get what I want.”

A thrill races through Iwaizumi’s blood. Ushijima is dangerous, and he has his eyes on Iwaizumi now. It’s all a part of the plan, but there is something about being so close to the edge of control that makes Iwaizumi’s heart pound.

He brushes his lips against Ushijima’s open palm and smirks. “You wanna dance?”

“A test drive?” Ushijima snares Iwaizumi’s hand and tugs him close. “I’m interested.”

They sweep onto the dance floor, ignoring the sideways glances from the other partygoers at the sight of a male prominent social figure dancing with another guy — especially when Iwaizumi is someone they’re guaranteed not to know. It’s bound to start a few hushed whispers in dark corners. Excellent.

The band strikes up a languid ballad, and the irony draw a chuckle from Iwaizumi. “Of course. Nothing like a slow dance to figure out how many left feet you have.”

“I’d imagine I have the same number you have.” Ushijima tugs them into motion, and Iwaizumi is unsurprised to find that Ushijima is a good dancer, as well. They float neatly around the room for a few songs before heading back to the bar for more bad alcohol. Iwaizumi schools his face into a mask of feigned interest while he and Ushijima people-watch. 

An hour passes before Ushijima poses the question Iwaizumi has been waiting for. “So, how much?”

“For you?” Iwaizumi leans close and murmurs in Ushijima’s ear. “If you can get me a good martini in the next half an hour, the first round is free because you’re probably hung like a horse and I’d love to find out. Extra rounds will cost, though, and I don’t come cheap.”

Ushijima nods and offers his arm; Iwaizumi takes it. Outside, a car is at the curb before they even finish descending the steps leading away from some nameless rich man’s palatial in-home ballroom. The doors are opened for them by stone-faced attendants, and they’re quickly on their way somewhere. Iwaizumi doesn’t know, but if Ushijima promised a drink before playtime, he has a feeling the man will deliver.

They arrive at yet another house that eclipses the size of Iwaizumi’s entire apartment building, and he looks over at Ushijima in askance. “Hey, where’s my drink?”

“Inside.” The car pulls to a stop at the end of a long loop and the door opens. “I make a fair martini, and my personal stock is much better.”

Iwaizumi curses under his breath. He had been counting on that public setting, making sure multiple people bear witness to Ushijima’s night of purchased pleasure. The audience at the soiree earlier will just have to suffice, even if wealthy folks are a tight-lipped lot. 

Inside the house, Iwaizumi’s peripheral vision takes in every detail of the path as they head into a dim room on the ground floor, where a sprawling set of shelves occupies an entire wall. Every hint of shelf space is taken up by a vast array of bottles. He chortles when he realizes they’re striped from top to bottom by alcohol types. Vodkas with vodkas, whiskeys with whiskeys, gins with gins.

On the top shelf, he spies the telltale silhouette of a Tanqueray’s bottle and snorts. “You weren’t kidding. You really do have the good stuff.”

“Of course.” Ushijima pulls down the dusky green bottle and sets it on the counter. “If it isn’t the best, it isn’t worth having.”

“Naturally.” Iwaizumi drapes himself on the polished wood of the bar and watches Ushijima mix him a drink with practiced ease. Glass in hand, he waits for Ushijima to pour one of his own before raising it in salute. “Here’s to good liquor and even better company.”

Ushijima clinks his glass against Iwaizumi’s but doesn’t drink. “I doubt you find my company all that good. Most people don’t.”

Iwaizumi quirks a brow. “What makes you think I’m talking about you?” He takes a long drag and hums in appreciation. “I happen to know I’m pretty good company.”

“We’ll see.” Ushijima’s eyes are fixed on him over the rim of his glass, his gaze almost predatory. Iwaizumi fights off a shiver of anticipation. He is planning on killing Ushijima before they sleep together, but those dark lingering looks of his are making Iwaizumi recalculate that decision. After all, being smeared all over with come and lube will sell the story of a wild night gone wrong.

Once their drinks are finished, Iwaizumi waves off a refill. “I think we’ll both have more fun if I’m awake. Alcohol makes me sleepy.” It doesn’t, of course, but he wants to be clear-headed while he executes his gameplan. 

“Suit yourself.” Ushijima knocks back two more fingers of whisky before giving a meaningful glance toward the door. “Shall we?”

Iwaizumi follows Ushijima’s broad figure up the stairs and into a massive bedroom centered by a sprawling bed, complete with equally luxurious bedding. He groans loudly and showily. “This was such a good idea. Nothing like being fucked within an inch of your life on silk sheets.”

Ushijima sheds his tuxedo jacket without preamble. “Are you sure you’re not afraid of me? I hardly think a few rounds of sex is life-threatening.”

A smile spreads across Iwaizumi’s face that isn’t entirely manufactured, sauntering over to Ushijima before roughly palming his swelling cock through his trousers. “Definitely not afraid.”

Growling, Ushijima fastens their mouths together for a bruising kiss. His fingers pick at his own shirt while Iwaizumi works on his own. He carefully avoids removing his trousers in order to maintain access to the small syringe in his pocket full of just enough drugs to disorient Ushijima and exit his system within twelve hours.

When Ushijima makes a move toward Iwaizumi’s belt buckle, his hand is swatted away. “Nope. No unwrapping yet. You should really enjoy foreplay a little bit more.”

Ushijima’s eyes glittered dark and hungry. “Enlighten me.” 

Iwaizumi drops to his knees with a smirk, taking his time in unfastening Ushijima’s trousers and brushing up against every sensitive spot he encounters until Ushijima’s legs tremble. Pants at his ankles, Ushijima throws his head back and hums appreciatively when Iwaizumi’s tongue zigzags up his length through the fabric of his underwear.

“Now  _ I _ get to unwrap.” Iwaizumi pushes Ushijima roughly onto his back on the bed and reaches for the waistband of his underwear. With each newly uncovered inch of flesh, Iwaizumi’s mouth runs dry. His earlier assumption isn’t wrong in the slightest; Ushijima’s dick is thick, long, and  _ hard _ . “Oh, fuck.”

He hears Ushijima chuckle. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

“Even if I can’t, I want it anyway,” Iwaizumi admits truthfully. “Most of my ‘clients’ don’t make it past a blowjob before they pass out. Them, I make pay first.”

“I assure you, it takes a little bit more than sex to knock me out.” Ushijima gazes down the hard, chiseled length of his torso, and when their eyes meet, Iwaizumi shivers. It’s as if all of his secrets are laid bare and Ushijima knows exactly what he’s planning and is allowing events to proceed regardless. 

Now he knows why his employer wants Ushijima dead; Iwaizumi doesn’t think he’s met a man more dangerous.

His entire body alight with a cocktail of challenge and anticipation, Iwaizumi turns his attention to the muscular column of Ushijima’s thighs. He nips and sucks at the taut flesh, relishing the way Ushijima flinches at his touch. Peeking up at Ushijima, Iwaizumi asked, “How do you feel about biting?”

Ushijima scoffs. “I doubt you’re capable of inflicting serious injury. Do whatever you like.”

Iwaizumi fights off an eye roll and proceeds as planned. With teeth and tongue, he explores the velvety skin of Ushijima’s inner thighs while his free hand slips into his pocket for the syringe. The needle all queued up, he sinks his teeth hard into the flesh while he plunges the needle in directly next to the bite. In a few seconds, the deed is done, and he has plenty of time to re-stow the needle while Ushijima’s toes curl and his knees close in around Iwaizumi.

“I was wrong,” Ushijima pants. “Maybe you  _ can  _ hurt me.” His calves latch around Iwaizumi’s torso and squeeze tightly. “You’ll have to do better than that, though.”

“Already on it.” Iwaizumi lets Ushijima watch him drag his tongue up the length of his cock before pushing as much of it as he can manage into his mouth. His eyes water at the pressure on the back of his throat, but he works Ushijima’s length in and out with every scrap of endurance he can muster. 

Ushijima’s hands fist painfully in his hair. However, the ache in his scalp pulses with every heartbeat, and he can already feel himself growing harder. Iwaizumi is no stranger to pain, but this is the first time it’s been something erring on the side of pleasure. If he had been unsure before, all doubts have been removed. Iwaizumi is definitely going to have fun with this one.

Slowly, he draws all sorts of interesting noises from Ushijima while grinding against his own hand. Iwaizumi teases until Ushijima hauls him up onto the bed. “You’re overdressed,” he growls, and Iwaizumi’s thighs quake beneath him. 

“Yeah.” He swallows hard while he shucks the rest of his garments, carefully piling up his trousers so the syringe doesn’t escape its hiding place. Now without a stitch of clothing, he swaggers over to the bed, eyelids heavy as he takes in the sight of Ushijima’s naked body in all its glory. “You could probably have someone new every night, you know. You wouldn’t even have to pay for it.”

Rolling his eyes, Ushijima harrumphs. “Good things always cost money. Anything that doesn’t is free for a reason.” He gives Iwaizumi a pointed glance. 

Iwaizumi drags a nail from Ushijima’s taint, up to the tip of his cock before giving it a little flick. “I’m getting  _ you _ for free. What does that say about you?”

Ushijima’s ankles hook around Iwaizumi’s thighs and send him sprawling onto Ushijima’s chest. Their faces almost flush, Ushijima hisses, “What makes you think dealing with me won’t have a price?”

The words are harsh, but there is no trace of malice on Ushijima’s face, only honesty. Iwaizumi doesn’t suppose there is anything worth having that comes for free, and as he leans down to fasten his mouth onto Ushijima’s, he wonders what the price of this night will really be. Oh, he’ll get paid handsomely for killing off one of the most ruthless crime lords in the modern era, but Iwaizumi has a feeling Ushijima will make him pay in some way before he goes.

Their hips grind together while Iwaizumi calculates how much longer Ushijima will last before he starts to lose consciousness. However, for the amount of diphenhydramine Iwaizumi had injected straight into a major artery, Ushijima appears no worse for wear. He even fumbles blindly in the nightstand until his hand surfaces with a bottle of lube Iwaizumi knows for certain isn’t available over the counter. 

He chuckles while leaning forward to snatch the bottle from Ushijima’s grasp. “God, you’re even a lube snob.” He flips the cap open with his teeth and huffs. “But if your taste in this is as good as your taste in gin, I can’t even pretend to be mad about it.”

“It serves me,” Ushijima offers simply before reclaiming the bottle and lathering his fingers. “Turn around.”

Iwaizumi gives him a wry smile. “You know, I can do that. Comes with the territory.”

Ushijima shakes his head. “I’ll do it.” His eyes narrow. “You have a mouth on you, and I want to see you come apart until you can’t talk anymore.” Never having been given an offer like  _ that _ before, Iwaizumi shivers and then complies, straddling Ushijima’s waist in reverse, his back arched to offer himself to Ushijima’s waiting hands. 

His breath tears out of him in a ragged sigh when one of Ushijima’s large, rough fingers presses into him. He’s slept with any number of old, flaccid politicians whose girth was not much more than the single digit pumping in and out of him at the moment, and he bites back a moan at the thought of still having more to come.

Ushijima methodically works Iwaizumi’s hole open, kneading his prostate with his fingertips until Iwaizumi can barely keep himself from begging for more. Instead, he busies himself with jamming as much of Ushijima’s length down his throat as he can manage to keep himself from whining for cock like a dog in heat. Most guys are into that in his experience, but nothing about Ushijima indicates that he is an average man.

His control dissolves when Ushijima manages a fourth finger inside of him, the burn of the stretch hot, sharp, and incredible. He swears under his breath, writhing his hips in an effort to push them deeper inside. “Fuck,” he hisses when his efforts come up short. “Please tell me you’re done down there.”

“That’s up to you.” His fingers never desist, and it isn’t until Iwaizumi feels the hint of a thumb sneaking into the mix as well that he slaps Ushijima’s thigh. Behind him, Ushijima chuckles. “I think we’re ready to move on.”

When Iwaizumi positions himself to take in Ushijima’s entire length, he closes his eyes and wills his brain to quiet itself for a few seconds, allowing his body to welcome in the most monstrous cock he’s ever taken. 

Tears well in Iwaizumi’s eyes, and sweat beads at his temples. He’s never felt so full in his life. He can swear that Ushijima is touching every part of his insides, forcing his insides back to make room. Hands shaking, he knots his fingers in his hair and pulls, the sensation making his own erection twitch for attention.

Ushijima obliges, his lube streaked fingers dragging up and down Iwaizumi’s own length. His motions are lazy, almost disinterested, and they ignite a spark of challenge in Iwaizumi’s gut. 

So they move in long, even strokes, Iwaizumi writhing to pull almost completely away before bottoming out in a single snap of his hips. However, when Iwaizumi feels like he’s a breath away from spilling himself into Ushijima’s hand, his movements devolve into an urgent, erratic crescendo. 

Slowly, Ushijima’s eyelids droop, and Iwaizumi knows the drug is starting to worm its way through Ushijima’s system. It’s nothing spectacular or even expensive — just simple allergy medication in a concentrated liquid form that will be out of Ushijima’s system quickly enough for Iwaizumi to finish the job before sunrise.

When Ushijima comes, Iwaizumi rides it out until his own follows. He collapses onto Ushijima’s chest, spent and feeling far too blissed out than work-related sex has any business doing.

Iwaizumi doesn’t heed the hand creeping up to cup the nape of his neck until Ushijima’s thumb presses tightly against his throat. His eyes bulge open, and he gapes at the man beneath him struggling for consciousness even as he squeezes the life out of Iwaizumi with a single hand.

“Did you really think I don’t know why you’re here?” Ushijima’s voice is breathy and strained, but his hand closes even tighter, pressing painfully into Iwaizumi’s windpipe. “All I have to do is squeeze.”

As black spots begin to dance in Iwaizumi’s vision, the pressure is gone and he’s left gasping for air. It takes a full minute before he can take a full breath. Ushijima watches him with cultivated disinterest. 

“You’ll betray them eventually, Iwaizumi Hajime. I’d prefer you leave them for me.” 

Iwaizumi’s mouth opens to retort, but nothing comes out. He hasn’t even hinted at his name, but it slips so easily between Ushijima’s lips like it has always lived there. 

Instead, he snaps his jaw shut and gauges whether Ushijima is serious, or if he’s being led into some intricate web where he’ll meet a grisly end. Yet Ushijima looks at him earnestly, and all Iwaizumi can manage is a raspy, “Why?”

Ushijima groans and runs his hands up Iwaizumi’s thighs, his fingers splayed on the pale flesh. “You interest me. It seems a shame to snap your neck and dump your lifeless body on your employer’s doorstep like a ragdoll. You could be so much more.”

“Why would I agree?” Iwaizumi grips Ushijima’s wrists tightly enough to bruise and he leans forward with a sneer. “You’re going to pass out in a few minutes, and you know I have a thousand ways to kill you at my fingertips. And how many of your lackeys actually know who I am other than some piece of ass you brought home as a party favor?”

Despite his battle to stay awake, Ushijima never looks away. “You can kill me, I’m sure, but you’ll never make it out of this building alive unless I decide you do.” He looks Iwaizumi up and down and closes his eyes. “You’re the best black widow assassin in fifty years. I’d hate to kill someone with so much . . . potential.” Ushijima undulates his hips, churning Iwaizumi’s insides and sending a sharp bolt of stimulation to his cock. 

Biting his lip until it almost bleeds, Iwaizumi fights off the urge to rock himself back against Ushijima’s flagging erection. “So you want me to be a little fucktoy you let out here and there to kill someone who looks at you wrong?”

Ushijima’s head lolls back and forth on the covers. “No, I want —” He fights for breath, the rest of his answer barely more than a whisper. “I want an equal. A partner.”

Every second, he can see Ushijima losing strength. He’s nearly out before he manages a wheezed, “If I wake up, I’ll have my answer.”

Iwaizumi drops Ushijima’s limp hands, throwing his head back as he bites back a roar of frustration. Even while completely at Iwaizumi’s mercy, Ushijima knows exactly how to get under his skin. It’s as if Ushijima can smell the resistance through his skin, that snot-nosed little orphan boy who screams to be rid of the captors who have molded him throughout the years into a perfect killing machine.

Ushijima still wants the killing machine, but he wants Iwaizumi, too.

If he leaves, Iwaizumi knows that they’ll never stop coming for him. There will never be peace while he’s alive and his slavers are, too. He may have to kill them all, but for the chance to build something of his own, the allure is potent. And Ushijima can offer that to him.

Growling under his breath, Iwaizumi rolls over onto the bed beside Ushijima, face buried in the same pillow he had planned to smother Ushijima with.

_ Had _ planned.

Iwaizumi wonders when he had made up his mind, but it doesn’t matter. Instead of picking up the pillow and wielding it with the deadly precision he does with everything else, he burrows into it and lets the lure of sleep take control. If he’s right, he’ll wake up a new man in a new world. If he’s wrong, well . . . he won’t wake up, but at least he won’t be a puppet anymore.

That last thought makes him smile as he drifts off into slumber.

The hot, bright sunrise spills into the room, haunting Iwaizumi through his eyelids until he finally awakens. Wrinkling his nose at the wet mess between his legs, he slips his feet to the floor and pads toward the massive bathroom connected to the master suite and lets the best water pressure money can buy rinse the dirty feeling from every pore on his skin.

For the first time in his life, he is disgusted with who and what he is, and rage lashes against his ribcage as his heart pounds loudly in his ears. Ushijima is right about him, and in a simple act has freed him from the bonds of his psychological prison.

Stepping from the shower, he feels clean.

He scouts out some of Ushijima’s simpler clothes — plain underclothes and a set of well-worn sweats. Sprawling on a chaise near the window, he flips through a novel he had plucked from the bookshelves in the corner. 

Iwaizumi starts when he looks over the edge of the book and sees Ushijima looming in front of him, still stark naked and completely comfortable with it. However, there is no fear when Ushijima reaches out to him, brushing his thumb along the line of Iwaizumi’s jaw. 

Ushijima looks down at the book and nods. “I see you made a good choice.” The comment is not about his reading material, and Iwaizumi doesn’t make that mistake for a second. “Would you care for some breakfast?”

Putting down the book, Iwaizumi quirked a smile. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

Soon, a full four course breakfast is delivered, and the two of them eat until they’re stuffed and sprawled out on the freshly changed linens. Swallowing a happy belch, Iwaizumi rests his head on Ushijima’s belly while now-familiar fingers idly card through his hair.

“So, when would you like to relieve yourself of your former position?” Ushijima asks, his demeanor in no way betraying the gravity of what is coming out of his mouth.

But after sleeping on it, Iwaizumi readily answers, “Soon, probably. Before they get to me first.”

Ushijima snorts. “As if they can catch you.”

The utter conviction behind Ushijima’s words makes something tingle inside of Iwaizumi, and every second he whiles away in the man’s company casts another strand in the new web they’re building together. As equals.

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Unraveled](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17922818) by [Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays)




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